I didn’t miss him all winter. Everytime I spoke to our mutual friends, who I guess he got custody over as I was limited to phone time with them, they would tell me he was being cold, sort of erratic, he was being exceedingly difficult. In some form or another he was costing them all money. He was not as exciting as he used to be. But now that it’s summer, I noticed a change in their voices.
They’re all clearly laughing with him again, enjoying his company, discovering new aspects of his personality. I am not jealous, per se. I do have someone else, someone way more suited to my personality. Someone who’s made me a little bit blonder, and a little bit tanner, and a hell of a lot healthier, but there’s still a separate heartbeat consistent for my first true love, and sometime in the middle of the night, when I know he cannot hear me, I’ll tell him: “New York, I miss you.
“…and here’s one of the things I miss most about you. Shake Shack on a weekday afternoon. In the middle of Madison Square Park, a long, long line, crinkly fries, insanely good custard, sundaes for your dog so there is always a beautiful greyhound or lab devouring a sundae in a cup on the floor beside his owner, the best burger for at least a couple miles, great people watching, wind energy efficiency, cooking oil that is eventually recycled into bio-diesel fuel, and a “shack cam” on their website so you can scope the line before dashing out the door. Perhaps I need to say it again: ‘New York, I still love you, but don’t tell LA.’”
by Libby Segal